Caroline

Sammy Bryant has always had his eyes on you. I mean, who wouldn’t look at you? You’re an absolute stunner is what he’d say if anyone ever asked. You’d been his and Tammi’s neighbor for about two years before the divorce.

Each morning, when you both were heading to your respective jobs, you’d still be polite enough to yell out a “Mornin’ neighbor!” All while waving your pretty manicured nails at him. 

He’d blush each time, but he’d still offer up his own “Good morning” to you. Sammy liked having you as a neighbor. You were always polite and helpful. 

Whenever you’d have a cookout with your friends and family, you'd invite him and Tammi over. Of course, Tammi never came, but Sammy never let that stop him from going to eat good food. 

“Make yourself at home, Sammy. Come on, I’ll make your plate,” you said, tugging him along with you to the kitchen. As you passed by different members of your family, you would introduce them. 

“Say mane, you ain’t gone arrest us or nothin’ right?” Your uncle asked him. 

“No, sir, m’just here to enjoy some good food and company,” Sammy answers. 

“Uncle Leroy, leave my neighbor alone,” you said, laughing slightly as you pulled Sammy into the kitchen. The man watches quietly as you move around the kitchen and grab one of the long plates. 

You look up at him, “Do you eat potato salad?” 

Sammy nods, “Yeah, I do. Honestly, it all looks great, so load me up with it all.”

You chuckle, “I’ll hook you up. My dad makes the best ribs this side of town.” You navigate around the table as you pack Sammy’s plate with various foods. His mouth waters the more that you put on the plate.

But truly, he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that his mouth was watering from the food. In actuality, the man can’t keep his eyes from trailing over your body. He can’t help the way that he notices the way that the shorts cling to your body, or how they rise each time you lean over the table. 

He’s a cop. He’s supposed to pay attention to the details that other people would miss, such as the fact that when your shirt lifts, he can see the faint glint from your belly button piercing. 

Or even the fact that he can tell that you just shaved your legs–as evidenced by the bandage on the side of your leg.

“You hurt yourself?”

“Huh?” 

When you turn to look at him, Sammy points to the bandage on the back of your leg. You look down at it and hum as though you forgot it was there. 

“Yeah, I nicked myself shaving this morning. You know how it is, playing host. You never really get time to yourself,” you explain, before sticking a fork in his plate. 

You pass the plate over to him, and he ignores the way that his skin tingles at the feel of your fingers brushing against his. Sammy follows you back into the party, where you both sit together at one of the tables. He takes the first bite of potato salad and nearly moans. 

The ribs are even better. 

“This is some of the best food I’ve had in a while,” He states, taking another bite of the ribs. 

You smirk, “Your wife not cooking many home meals?”

Sammy wipes his mouth and swallows down the food, “Not really. She does her best, but she’s not much of a cook. But I knew that when I married her.” He winces once the sentence is out and tries to save face, “She makes a great casserole.”

He cringes even harder at that sentence.

You laugh softly, “M’just teasing you, Sammy. Since you like the food so much, I’ll make you some to-go plates.”

Sammy takes his time to stare into your eyes. He analyzes the different shades of color present there and how your eyelashes perfectly complement your eyes. 

“I’d really like that. Thank you.”

“S’no problem.” 

You hold eye contact with him for a beat before breaking it once one of your cousins calls your name. You’re polite enough to include Sammy in the conversation. Actually, you’re great at reassuring him throughout the entire evening. 

Even when you’re teaching him to play Spades, you’re patient and calm with him. He finds himself laughing along with your family as they joke about you bringing a white boy around. 

You laugh loudly, “Y’all are gonna put some respect on my neighbor’s name. I’m not about to let y’all come for him like this.”

“Right, niece! Y’all ain’t coming for my friend. He said he's going to help me get rid of these parking tickets,” your uncle, Delmont, said, all while winking at Sammy. 

Sammy can’t help but admire how joyful and carefree you are when you’re with your family. It only makes him more attracted to you, especially with how welcoming you are. 

He stops the thoughts before they can even begin to manifest into a montage of images. If there’s one thing that Sammy Bryant doesn’t do is cheat. 

He knew his fair share of guys at the station who were messing around on their wives and girlfriends, but that had never been Sammy’s scene. 

He took the sanctity of marriage seriously. When he said those vows to Tammi, he meant every single word. So as much as he liked you, he’d never cross that line and hurt his wife. 

Because his parents raised him to be a lot of things, but a cheater wasn’t one of them. 

Even though he has his suspicions of Tammi, he still wouldn’t allow himself to ever cross that line. 

By the end of the night, as things are winding down, Sammy stands across from you in your yard with his to-go plates stacked together in a plastic bag. 

“Thank you again for inviting me and for the food,” He said, smiling shyly at you. 

“You’re welcome. Thanks for coming. You know it was really nice having you here, Sammy. You’re welcome to come to any future cookouts.”

He smiles, “Good, because I don’t think I ever want to miss out on your dad’s ribs.” Before he knows it, you’re stepping closer to him. He can practically feel the warmth of your body with how close you are. 

“Have a good night, Sammy.” He expects that to be the end of the conversation. What he doesn’t expect is for you to pull him into a hug. He can feel the increasing thumping of his heart beating against his chest at the feel of your body pressed to his. 

He tries to take a deep breath to calm his nerves, but that only worsens the situation because then he gets a big waft of your perfume. He circles his arm around your waist and pulls you more to him. 

You happen to move your head back to stare at him, and for a moment, he’s trapped within your gaze. He clears his throat and moves back. For a second, he allowed himself to visualize what it’d be like to have your lips pressed against his. 

He swallows roughly as the guilt starts to creep up into his body. He smiles awkwardly at you, “G’night.” 

You spare him one last smile before turning to walk back inside your house. Sammy follows suit and walks back to his house. When he gets inside, he spots Tammi sitting on the couch, watching TV and texting on her phone. 

“You’ve been gone all day. Thought I might have to file a missing person’s report,” She said, eyes flickering over his form and the bag in his hand. 

“No need for that. The neighbor and her family invited me to stay and eat with them. They were really nice,” Sammy responds.

Tammi hums. She’s not blind. She can see how pretty you are and the occasional glances that you spare Sammy’s way. Even just the fact that he was so excited to go to your house has her raising her eyebrows.

Sure, she’s already having an affair of her own, but something about the thought of you and Sammy together just makes her stomach queasy. However, it would absolve her of some guilt about her affair if Sammy were sleeping with you. 

Maybe he’d even be willing to look past what she’s doing in favor of his affair with you. 

The next day, Sammy’s on edge. 

He suspects more and more that Tammi is cheating on him. But it’s fully confirmed for him in that moment when he checks his to-go plates and sees that someone had eaten his ribs. 

Tammi doesn’t even like ribs. 

So who did she have in his house?

You’d noticed the change in Sammy since his divorce. At first, he was more withdrawn and isolated. You’d grown worried when you started to notice the usual softness and joy present in his face fading away. 

You were there for Sammy even when he started to push you away. You’d send over meals to his house, and he’d give you a soft smile, but you could always tell that the light had left his eyes.

It only got worse when he found out that the baby that he was so excited for wasn’t his. 

In that moment, Sammy Bryant decides to become a brand new man. As he looks in the mirror, he takes in his chubby cheeks and the slight curve of his stomach. He figures that he’ll start there.

He starts going to the gym more and being more mindful about what he eats. Soon, the weight practically falls off, and his face becomes slimmer. His jawline’s sharper, and the man that stares at him in the mirror is him…but not him at the same time. 

He likes it. And he’s not the only one. Sammy starts to garner a lot more attention from women on the regular patrols. They’d usually keep their eyes on Nate and disregard Sammy. 

But now, they flash heated looks and sugary smiles in his direction. It puts a certain pep in his step. Even as he goes to the bar with the guys, more women are pulling him to the side and suggesting that they come back to his place. 

He smiles politely and declines. 

He sips from his beer after he’d rejected yet another woman. Ben turns to him, “Jeez, Bryant, she was a real smoke show. I bet she would’ve been open to showing you a good time.” 

Sammy shrugs, “Nah, not my type.” 

Nate scoffs, “Not your type? What’s your type then? Oh, let me guess, your fine ass neighbor next door?” 

Sammy shoots him a warning look. Nate chuckles, “So, I’m right. Why don’t you just ask her out, man? She seems like she’s into you.”

“I don’t know. I just haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

“Well, you’d better get a move on it. Pretty girl like that. Some guy’s bound to scoop her up soon.”

Sammy knows that he’s right. You’re a beautiful woman, and not too many men would miss their opportunity to have you on their arm. Since the divorce, he’s been watching you a lot more. 

He finally feels like it’s not a sin to look at you and imagine what it’d be like to be with you. 

Which just happens to be the case now as he watches you head out to your car. You glance up, feeling his eyes on you, “Mornin’ neighbor.”

“Morning,” Sammy replies before he starts to walk over in your direction. 

You lean against your car and give him another one of those dazzling smiles, “Long time no see, Sammy. You get a brand new look and dump me.” 

You don’t hide the fact that you’re checking him out, which he really likes. 

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t you, I swear. It’s just been a lot with the divorce and then the baby…” He trails off at the end of the sentence and swallows roughly. 

It still hurts him to talk about the fact that the baby isn’t his. A cute, chubby-faced baby that Sammy was prepared to give the world to. Even after the DNA test came back negative, he tried to make it work. It was always his dream to be a father. But as all things are with Tammi, they eventually become complicated. Her affair partner was still a constant in her life, and he obviously wanted to be a part of the kid’s life. 

So Sammy did the mature thing. 

He bowed out and left. There was no point in fighting for something that would only hurt him in the end. 

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry that you had to go through all of that, Sammy. Really. You’re a great guy,” You said, your expression softening. 

“Thanks, and thanks for being there. Those home-cooked meals meant more than you know.”

“You’re welcome. You know you’re always welcome over anytime,” You said.

Sammy smiles shyly. Even with his new look, he still found himself nervous around you. 

“I should go, but I’ll see you around, Sammy. Be careful.” With one last parting smile, you get into your car and drive away. Sammy watches you drive away and mentally scolds himself for not being brave enough to ask you out. 

It’s a random Friday night, and Sammy finds himself on patrol with Nate and Ben. There’s nothing too crazy besides them having to get a few sloppy drunks in line. Sammy’s eyes scan to the entrance of the club, and he stops once he spots you walking out with your friends. He lets his eye run down your figure in the way that the front of the dress dips dangerously to show the outline of your breasts. 

You look beautiful, and you’re practically glowing as you laugh loudly at something that one of your friends says. Your eyes scan your surroundings, and they automatically land on Sammy leaning against the patrol car. 

Sammy sees you say something to your friends before you start to walk in his direction. By this point, Nate and Ben have noticed you approaching them. Nate nudges Sammy, “Aye, Bryant, there goes your lady.”

Sammy rolls his eyes, but can’t stop the smile that covers his face. 

“Evening officers. Hi, neighbor,” You say, looking in Sammy’s direction. 

“Hi, uh..you look really nice. Girls’ night out?”

“Bachelorette Party, actually. My best friend’s getting married next week,” You reply, briefly glancing back at the group of women, who wave at you before making obscene gestures. Sammy chuckles at their antics. Your friends use his laughter as an excuse to come over and antagonize you finally. 

A woman with long faux locs and a sasha labelled “Bride” smirks while looking between you and Sammy. “Oh, so you must be the sexy neighbor that she won’t stop talking about.”

Your eyes widen, “Kamari!”

“Ooops, my bad. I’m a little tipsy officer, forget I said anything,” Kamari states before turning her gaze to Ben and Nate. “Hey, is it possible for you guys to handcuff me and put me in the back of the cop car?”

Your other friends laugh at Kamari’s suggestion, but truthfully, Ben and Nate are down to make her wish come true. You watch in amusement as Ben puts the cuffs around her wrists loosely as your other friend, Shay, takes pictures and videos of the moment.

You find that Sammy’s already looking at you, “Aren’t you gonna frisk me, Officer?”

Sammy smirks at the insinuation, “I don’t know, ma’am. Have you been a good girl or a bad girl tonight? I have to have reasonable cause for a search.”

You step closer and pretend to think it over, “I don’t know, Officer Bryant. I think I’ve been pretty bad tonight. I think you should cuff me and make sure that I’m not in possession of anything. You know, for the safety of the public and all?” You peer at him from beneath your lashes as you flash one of those dazzling smiles in his direction. 

“How much have you had to drink tonight, sweetheart?” He figures that it must be some sort of liquid courage if you’re openly flirting with him like this. 

“Not a lot. I’m playing designated driver tonight, so that means that I’m completely sober and in my right mind to flirt with you,” You mutter as you reach out to lightly touch his shirt. Your fingers play with the buttons of his shirt, and Sammy feels flush at having your hands on him.

From the side, Kamari stumbles, and you take a step back from Sammy. “I should get her home. It was nice seeing you, Sammy. Stay safe tonight.”

“Drive safely, sweetheart.” 

He watches you walk away, the dress clinging to each curve of your body. You throw a fleeting glance over your shoulder and wink at him before turning around. 

“She’s so into you, man. You gotta get in on that,” Ben suggests. 

For the first time in a while, Sammy figures that it’s time to make his move.

12:20 AM. 

That’s the precise time that Sammy makes it to his house. He briefly glances over to your house and clocks the fact that the lights are still on. 

He walks into his house, which is silent except for the sounds of his dog, Cooper, snoring from the couch. 

As Sammy showers, he’s suddenly hyper aware of his body and all of the different changes there. The slight pudge that used to sit over his pants is nonexistent. Even as he stands in the mirror and observes his jaw, which one lady stated “could cut through glass,” he just stares.

He starts to wonder if maybe Tammi wouldn’t have cheated on him if he looked like this. Was she turned off by his chubby cheeks or the feel of his stomach against hers when they had sex? 

Then he thinks about you. 

Never once during the times when he’d talked with you did you ever make him feel like he was disgusting. In fact, the only time that he ever felt wanted was when he was with you. 

The realization is what gives him the confidence to finally walk across the pathway as he stands in front of your door nervously. 

He readjusts his grip on the wine bottle as he raises his hand to knock. 

He lowers his hand, “What are you doing, Bryant? She’s probably asleep. What? You bring wine and then what?”

He jumps as the door opens. You stand in front of him with a wide grin on your face, “Are my eyes deceiving me, or are you talking to yourself at my front door, Sammy?”

Sammy blushes under your gaze. He awkwardly rubs his hand through his hair, “How’d you know I was at your door?” 

You take a small step forward and point to the side of the door, where a ring camera sits. 

“I saw you on my camera. The motion detector went off, and then I just kind of watched you psych yourself up at the door,” You respond, laughing. 

Sammy laughs right along with you. 

“I’m sorry. That was weird. I should probably go.” 

“Don’t be. It’s cute. Plus, you walked all this way, you might as well come in,” you states, leaning on the door. Frankly, it’s not like he walked far. Your house is literally only a few steps away, but implication is just far too sexy to resist. 

Sammy follows behind you into your house, and he takes the chance to look around. You’ve changed things around since the last time that he’s been here. It’s warm, cozy, and completely you. 

You navigate him towards the kitchen where you go to the cabinet to grab two glasses. 

He removes the cork from the wine glass, and you blatantly stare at the flex of his muscles. 

“Sorry if it’s not the good stuff,” He said, as he pours you both a glass. 

“It’s fine. I’ve become all too familiar with cheap wine, and truthfully, I kind of like it,” you reply. You usher him into the living with as you both sit side by side. You pull your feet up to rest on the couch as you stare at Sammy. 

“What brings you by this time of night, Officer Bryant?” You ask teasingly.

“ I wanted to see you.”

You smile, “I wanted to see you, too. I was hoping that you’d stop by.”

“You looked really beautiful tonight,” Sammy announces, eyes briefly flickering down to your bare legs.

“Thank you. You looked pretty hot in your uniform.”

He smiles bashfully, “Yeah? That’s seems to be the consensus among everyone these days. Guess they didn’t really like the way that I looked in the uniform back then. Nobody likes a chubby guy, you know?”

He tries to laugh at the end of the joke to take the sting away, but it still hurts. The insecurity of it all stillhurts. 

You set your glass down the table before turning to look at him. He wants to smooth the frown out of your pretty face. 

“Is that really what you think of yourself, Sammy? Don’t get me wrong, you’re hot like this, but I liked you when you had a little weight on you, too. You were fluffy.” 

Sammy chuckles, “Fluffy? Like a bunny?”

“Yeah, like a bunny. You always looked like you were good at cuddling and like you could keep a girl warm on a cold night,” you explain, your expression darkening. 

You scoot closer to him on the couch until your legs are touching his. You trail yours eyes across his form and suddenly, he just feels so naked under your gaze. 

He finds himself leaning in closer to your face, but you stop him. You stand from the couch and hold your hand out to him, “Come on, I wanna try something.” 

Sammy’s like a little puppy with how he willingly lets you lead him throughout your house. He eyes the various pictures frames that have you and your family in them. His heart is hammering against his chest as you both get closer to what he presumes is your bedroom. 

It also doesn’t help that he can feel himself hardening in the grey sweatpants. You push the door open lightly as he finally catches a full view of your room. 

The big bed sits neatly in the middle of the room, but what catches his eye more is the huge mirror that sits in front of the bed. Sammy’s mind goes to less innocent scenarios, such as you pleasuring yourself in front of the mirror. 

You turn to face his as you both stand in front of the bed. “Is it okay if I touch you, Sammy?”

He nods, wide eyes seeking your approval.

You click your tongue, “No, baby, you’re an officer, you know how important consent is.”

He swallows the saliva that fills his mouth, “Yes, you can touch me. You can do whatever you want to me, doll.”

“Good because I wanna make you feel good tonight.” Your fingers reach out to lightly squeeze the bulge that peeks through the sweatpants. He jumps in anticipation. 

Your hands grasp the edge of his shirt before you lift it above his head. The fabric falls carelessly to the floor. Sammy suddenly feels very shy under your gaze. 

You pull his body to yours with the drawstring of his sweats. You peer up at him, “I want you to kiss me, Sammy.”

He doesn’t need much else after that as he lips descend upon yours. Sammy’s lips move across yours, and it feels like he’d devouring you. But truthfully, you don’t know how much, he’s been waiting to finally touch you. 

You moan softly at the feel of his tongue sliding into your mouth. You can taste the faint hint of mint on Sammy’s tastebuds. You move your hands up to cup his face, “You know how many hours I spent thinking about this face? Sammy, I’d literally cum to the thought of sitting on your face.” 

You move your lips to the side and press a kiss to his cheek, “I was always happy whenever I’d get to see your sweet face in the morning.” 

As expected, he blushes. You slide your hands from his face down to his stomach, which is now lean with abs and a visible v-line running down. Your hands grasp the side of his waist.

“I really liked your stomach.” Sammy’s mouth goes dry as he watches you to come to stand behind him. You turn his face to the mirror, “Eyes on the mirror, baby. I want you to watch every single thing I’m doing to you.”

He watches you bite your lip through the mirror, “You wanna know what I fantasized about when it came to your stomach?”

“Tell me,” Sammy orders gruffly. 

 Your manicured hands slide down the length of his body before you dig your nails into his stomach. 

“I used to think about you and me together. I thought about you laying your body atop of mine, and you thrusting away. But you wanna know what really turned me on? I couldn’t stop thinking about your belly rubbing up against mine. It didn’t turn me off at all. Means that you’re eating good. Can I make you feel good?”

“Please,” he whimpers, as he leans back in your hold. 

You gently usher him to sit in the middle of the bed. Grasping the sides of his sweatpants, you pull them down as his dick slaps against his stomach. 

You kneeling between Sammy’s legs, staring up at him all pretty. 

“I wanna see you too,” Sammy said, softly. 

You lean back to toss your shirt over your head. Sammy’s greeted with the sight of your beautiful breasts as the air starts to harden your nipples.

“You look beautiful,” Sammy states. 

“Thank you, baby. So do you. Now let me make you feel good,” you tell him, to which he nods.

You take his length in your hands and slide your tongue across his tip to collect the precum dripping there. 

Sammy shudders in your hold. Licking up the underside of his dick, you allow your glossed lips to cover his tip. Lifting up, you swirl your tongue around like you’re licking a lollipop. 

“You taste so good, baby. Just like I knew you would.” Sammy jumps and moans loudly at the feel of you enveloping his full length into your mouth. He pulls your curly hair out of your face so that he can stare at you. 

You look at the Sammy the entire time as you move your head up and down. When you move up again, you allow a large amount of saliva to trail over Sammy’s tip before slurping it back into your mouth.

“Baby…fuck…that feels so good,” Sammy moans, his face scrunching up in pleasure. 

You moan around him at the praise and Sammy finds his hips lifting each time to meet your mouth. Quite frankly, you’re happy to see him prioritizing his own pleasure and wants. You know he deserves it after everything that Tammi put him through. 

Sammy feels the creeping of the orgasm rising in his body before he can fully comprehend it. His mind feels frazzled as he moans unabashedly in the room. He tries to push you back a little, “Baby…”

But you already know what that means, and you’re not letting your man miss out having his pleasure. Hallowing your cheeks more, Sammy moans increase as you fully submerge yourself to the base of his length, pushing your nose into the ginger hairs at the base of his dick. 

Stars burst beneath his eyes as his orgasm starts. He moans and whimpers as the ropes of cum leave him. You obediently drink him down and move up at the sheer amount of cum that floods your mouth. 

With him now out of your mouth, you point his leaking dick at your chest as the white liquid paints your breasts like a canvas. 

The last bit of Sammy’s white release trails lazily down the side of his dick. You catch the liquid before it can drop on the bed and bring it to your mouth. Sammy’s dick jumps at the sight of your wet mouth, along with your bare chest painted with him cum. 

“Come here, sweetheart,” He orders. 

You stand in front of him, bare and waiting. Sammy surprises you when he moves his face closer to your body and his tongue flicks out to swipe the cum away from your nipple. The ginger-haired man fully wraps his lips around your nipples as he sucks gently. Sammy repeats the action on your other breast before moving to lick the remaining remnants of his cum from your chest.

Once you’re cleaned up to his satisfaction, he connects his mouth to yours. You both kiss messily as the faint trace of him remains on your tongues. 

Gently laying you down on the bed, Sammy hovers above you. He presses light kisses down the length of your body. He grabs your hips in his hands as he slides your sleep shorts down your legs and discard them on your floor. 

“M’gonna make you feel good too, baby. For the next couple of days, all I want is the taste of you in my mouth,” He explains, laying down between your legs. 

Kissing up your thighs, Sammy nips at your thighs before soothing the bites over with his tongue. Truthfully, he wants to mark you. He wants to leave this bedroom knowing that some part of him is still imprinted on your body. 

Sammy pushes your legs back and is greeted with the sight of your glistening folds. Leaning down, he collects the slick that gathers at your entrance on his tongue and licks a long stripe towards your clit. 

It seems like just from that small taste, it incites Sammy to fully bury his face into your pussy. You lean up on your elbows as you watch his head move back and forth. 

Stuffing your hand into his curls, your jaw drops at the feel of the man eating you out like you were his last meal on Earth. 

“Sammy…”You moan, eyes rolling to the back of your head. How could Tammi be this stupid and give an eater like Sammy up? 

Admittedly, this is the first time that a man’s been able to bring you the edge so quickly just off of head alone. Sammy’s Bryant a dangerous man, and you’d definitely be willing to fight anyone before you gave up your best eater. 

With one last suck to your clit, you’re exploding on Sammy’s tongue. He watches as your back arches from the bed. It brings a huge sense of pride to his chest at the fact that he’s making you feel so good. 

You breathe heavily and laugh, “If I knew you were this good, I would have came to your house sooner.” 

Sammy licks his lips, tasting the remaining juices on his face. “I think we both have a lot to make up for baby.”

Leaning up, you pull his lips to yours, “Well, we can start now.” You grasp his hardened dick in his hand, “I’d love to feel you inside me.”

Reaching over to the bedside drawer, Sammy pulls out a condom and slides it over his length. 

“Yeah, baby, we got a lot to make up for.”

From that moment, you instantly become Sammy’s girl and there isn’t a thing that he won’t do for you. Sammy feels good about his relationship with you. For the first time in a while, he feels valued and less like a burden. 

Knowing that you found him attractive in every single state sent a wave of flutters throughout his chest each time. 

Naturally, the guys at the station teased him for getting a woman as beautiful as you. He’d heard his fair share of “You sure you can handle all that, Bryant?” But truthfully, Sammy had excelled at proving that he could handle you. 

The man was practically manhandling you all throughout his house. He got off on seeing just how much he could make you cum. He always kept a perceptive eye on you as he liked watching you cum, and seeing how overwhelmed you got by the orgasm. 

He liked knowing that he was the only one making you feel good. 

Even the first time that you’d let him go raw inside you, Sammy Bryant had literally turned you every way but loose. 

You still didn’t see how Tammi could ever cheat on the man when he was putting it down like this. 

Speaking of Sammy’s ex-wife, she’d started to become a rather bothersome nuisance. She’d heard around town that Sammy had started seeing a new woman. So imagine her surprise when she spots you and Sammy walking hand-in-hand in the grocery store with love sick smiles on your faces.

It’s also not lost on Tammi how good he looks. This wasn’t the same Sammy Bryant who’d divorced her months ago. 

No, he actually looked happy with you. 

She swallows down the sting of bitterness. As the saying goes, you never know what you have until it’s gone. And Tammi was surely recognizing that now. 

Sammy gets off on Friday and heads home to take off his uniform. He’d already since logged his body cam back in at the station. He parks in front of his house and walks in, just as he smells food wafting through the home. 

He smiles at the realization that you’re here and you’re cooking for him. He’d given you a key to his house pretty early on the relationship, and he didn’t regret it. As far as Sammy was concerned, he was serious about his relationship with you. 

Sure, the sex was great, but there wasn’t a moment that he didn’t enjoy spending with you. He loved the fact that he was able to get to know you on a more deeper and intimate level. 

He spots you stirring away at the stove. His eyes zero in on the pretty dress your wearing and how it rides up when you move. 

Gently walking up behind you, Sammy wraps his arms around your waist. 

“Evenin’ ma’am. I’m Officer Bryant with the LAPD. I’m here to discuss something serious with you, you might if I search your person for anything?” Sammy questions.

You smirk, you already know this is about to end with you cumming around Sammy. You turn the stove off as you turn your head slightly to the side, “Of course, Officer. May I ask what’s this about?”

“Well, ma’am, I have reasonable cause to suspect that you’re harboring something deadly on you. Now, do I have your consent to frisk you?”

You laugh lowly, which Sammy catches as he chuckles.

“I don’t know, Officer Bryant. Do you have a search warrant.?”

Sammy raises his eyebrows in amusement, “M’afraid I don’t ma’am. But I could take you down to the station and it’d be a lot longer. I think it’d be easier if you just consented here.” He trails his fingers down to the edges of your dress. 

“Okay, Officer Bryant, you have my permission,” you respond. 

Sammy navigates you away from the stove and to the the nearby counter. “Hands in front of you where I can see them, ma’am. Spread your legs for me.” 

You follow Sammy’s orders as you spread your legs more. You can already feel the panties between your legs becoming wet with freakiness of it all. 

Starting at your chest, Sammy gently pats his hands along your body. He gets to your breasts and cups them in his hands. You lean into his touch. Patting along your waist, Sammy moves his mouth close to your ear, “Have you been a good girl, sweetheart?”

“Mhmm..I’m always a good girl for you, Officer.” Sammy hums before kneeling behind you. 

He trails his hands up your legs as he reaches the hem of your dress. He pushes the fabric over your hips and whistles at the sight of your panties clinging to your wet pussy. 

“Now what do we have here, sweetheart? Is this getting you all hot and bothered?” Sammy asks, as he swipes his fingers along the damp center of your panties. 

“Tell you what, sweetheart. I’ll make a deal with you. I got a little situation going on if you catch my drift. You help me out and I’ll let you go scot free,” Sammy suggests. 

“Okay, Officer Bryant. We can do that,” You state, subtly waving your hips in his face. In response, Sammy pulls the wet material down your legs as he stuff it in the back of his pocket. 

He practically salivates at seeing how wet you are. 

Standing up behind you, Sammy unbuttons his pants and pulls them down just enough before guiding his tip to your entrance. 

You bend over more as you arch your back. You and Sammy moan in unison as he slides into you. 

“God baby, you feel so good,” he mutters against your shoulder. He has to pause due to how your warm walls encircle around him. 

Pulling back lightly, Sammy thrusts forward, which makes you let out a soft moan. He starts a steady pace as he rocks in and out of you. The man looks down at his your pussy stretches around him, and at the white creaminess that coats the base of his dick. 

You know Sammy’s watching. He’s always been a fan of looking at your bodies being connected. You start to thrust back as your ass bounces against his thrusts.

Sammy reaches around to close his hand around your throat as his movements increase. The loud sound of skin slapping fills the kitchen space. You and Sammy are so utterly lost in the moment that neither of you pays attention to the woman, who stands gobsmacked in the kitchen. 

Tammi doesn’t know what she expected to find when she came back to her former house. All day, she’d talked herself up to come back to the house. She had said that she would tell Sammy that she’d forgotten something, then being the nice guy that he is, he’d let her in. 

She expected that they talk, reminisce on the good old days before they’d talk about how much they missed each other. Them missing each other would lead to them kissing and then they’d go at each other like rabbits.

At least, that’s the scenario that Tammi planned in her head. However her plan was severely flawed from the jump. As soon as she had gotten to the house, she’d knocked and knocked. Not that you and Sammy would be able to hear over the sounds of your lovemaking. 

So Tammi got desperate and used her old key, which has led her to the current moment. Having to watch her ex-husband fuck you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever get to do. Her eyes zero in on Sammy’s hand wrapped around your throat, and how much pleasure you seem to be in. 

Tammi has to admit it to herself, Sammy’s always been a phenomenal lay and even better when it came to giving head. But as she watches him here with you, a large flare of envy creeps into her mind. 

Here you were reaping all of the good benefits of Sammy. The parts of him that she had neglected.

With one last thrust, you and Sammy moan loudly as your mutual climaxes erupt. Sammy holds your body flush to his as you can feel the white spurts of cum shooting against your womb. 

You laugh softly, “You keep cumming in me like this, Sammy, we’re gonna be picking out baby names.”

“Wouldn’t bother me, one bit, honey.”

You’re both startled at the sound of keys hitting the floor. You both look at the former Mrs. Bryant as she stands awkwardly in the doorway. 

Sammy pulls his pants up as he smooths your dress down, “Tammi, what are you doing here? How’d you even get in?”

The blonde woman blushes in embarrassment, “I was coming by to talk and I knocked, but you weren’t answering.” 

Her eyes flicker over to you, “I can see why now. You know, I always knew that you liked him. You’d look at him whenever he came out of the house. I guess you were just waiting on your chance to swoop in and steal him from me.” 

Sammy scoffs, “Oh, come off of it, Tammi. Last I checked, you cheated on me, and we’re divorced so you can stop with the whole ‘woe is me’ bullshit.”

“I just wanted to talk, Sammy. You remember when we used to do that?”

“Yeah, I do. I always remember that you used to not cheat on me either, or maybe the fact that you got pregnant with his kid. God, Tammi, nothing that I ever did was ever gonna be enough for you,” Sammy states, running a hand through his hair. You place a reassuring hand on his back. 

Tammi sees it. She also sees the way that Sammy’s body visibly relaxes in your hold. She isn’t dumb. She sees what’s going on here, and she swallows down the acidity as it crawls up her throat. 

Sammy is in love with you. 

It’s just as clear cut as it needs to be. There’s no chance of reconciliation for her and Sammy because she’d already lost his love to you. 

Even with the way that she can see Sammy grasping your fingers between his, it solidifies the moment.

“I shouldn’t have came. I’m sorry, Sammy.” 

She turns to leave the house until Sammy calls her name. She’s honestly expecting him to make some grand speech in front of you about how he would always love her and how he wants them to be friend. 

But that doesn’t come. 

Sammy holds his hand out, “I need my key back to my house.” Tammi’s eyes widen as she fishes the key from the key chain. She slides into Sammy’s hand and watches as he hands it over to you. 

“Aren’t you at least gonna walk me out, Sammy?”

You roll your eyes as Sammy huffs in annoyance. He’s about to take a step forward until you stop him, “I’ll walk her out, baby.” 

Sammy watches as you usher Tammi to the door. You both disappear around the corner. She turns to face you, “It won’t last with you two. Sammy and I have history together. He isn’t gonna throw it all away for some fling.”

You laugh, like actually downright laugh in her face. “Honey, was that for you or me? I seem to recall you threw all of your history with Sammy away for some fling. You even let him knock you up. You never deserved Sammy. He’s a great man, who you took for granted. But hey, I should be thanking you. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have him. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m about to go fuck my man again.” 

Before she can respond, you close the door in her face. You walk back into the kitchen where Sammy is standing. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even know she still had a key. And for the record, you’re not just a fling to me. I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you.” He takes a second to pause, “I love you, sweetheart. I know it may be too soon to say this but I’d like to spend the rest of my life with you.”

That pretty smile that made Sammy fall for you covers your face. You step forward to cup his face in your hands, “I love you too, Sammy. And for the record, I like the idea of spending the rest of my life with you.” 

Sammy leans down to press his lips against yours. When he pulls back, he keeps his forehead pressed to yours, “Thank you for being here and loving me at every stage. There hasn’t been a moment where I had to wonder if I was worthy enough to be with you.”

Your eyes soften, “Sammy, I’ll always spend every moment reminding you of why you deserve the world.”

He smiles, “And I’ll make sure that I spend every moment making sure that I’m giving it to you.” 

“Good. Now, are we eating or going for another round?”

Sammy laughs loudly, “Let’s eat, then I can show you all the ways that I love you.”

“I like the sound of that.”

End.

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​Every single time, he would look away with a shy flush creeping up his neck, muttering for you to cut it out. But, for as much as he protested, you could also see the way his chest puffed out jussst a little every time you said the word.

​A few nights later, you were lying on your side, propped up by your elbow as your fingers trailed absentminded circles over his bare chest. ​Logan was lying flat on his back, staring straight up at the ceiling with one arm bent under his head, his jaw tight as his mind shouted in the quiet room.

​You knew that look. The excitement had worn off and now, he was overthinking it all, letting the pressure get to him. You weren't going to have that.

​"What's on your mind, Captain?" you whispered softly, your index finger drawing circles over his heart.

​Logan's sigh was louder, more dramatic, than he intended. He looked down from the ceiling, his eyes resting on you. He caught your hand for a second, his thumb tracing over the backs of your knuckles, before letting it go with a self-deprecating laugh.

​"I just... I want to make sure I do this right," he muttered, looking back up. "Be the captain that they deserve."

​"Hey, look at me," you said, softly but firmly. You shifted closer, your hand starting its journey over his chest again. "You were a captain long before that 'C' got stitched onto your jersey."

​"You really think so?" His voice was thick with stubborn self-doubt.

​Your hand trailed lower, tracing the firm line of his abs beneath the sheets. "I've never seen anybody more dedicated when their mind is set on something. You always lead by example. Communication skills? A1. You're an amazing player, and... you look hot doing it."

​"I'm not sure looking hot is a requirement for captain," he laughed, his chest rumbling beside you.

​Shifting closer until your chest pressed against his side, your breath fanned his neck as your hand slipped under the waistband of his boxers, gently stroking him.

​"Maybe not officially." Your voice dropped seductively, your lips brushing against the skin right under his jaw. "But it's definitely a perk for your biggest fan. I'm so proud of my captain." You paused, the corner of your mouth lifting into a playful smirk as your eyes met his. "Besides, we already know how great you are at taking the lead."

​Before you could wrap your hand around his hardening erection, Logan rolled over, shifting until his weight was fully pressed onto you. He barely gave you a second to react before he grabbed your wrist, pulling you out of his boxers and pinning your hand firmly to the mattress beside your head.

It's like something snapped inside of him, the sound of you calling him captain in this way echoing through his head.

​"Oh, captain..."

​He leant down and kissed you.

​It wasn't like the soft kisses he had given you earlier. It was demanding and all-consuming, his tongue slipping past your lips with an intense hunger that made your head spin.

​When he finally pulled back, you fought to catch your breath, completely dazed. His free hand immediately slipped between your legs, finding the slick dampness waiting there for him.

​Your hips bucked up into his touch. "Fuck, feels so good, captain."

​His fingers glided through your wetness, intentionally avoiding your throbbing clit. "You like how it feels, baby?" The words came out as a growl, sending shivers down your spine.

​"Yes," you gasped, your eyes squeezing shut. "More. Please, Loge."

​"Ah, ah," he tutted. His thumb applying a sudden pressure to your clit, making your toes curl. He leant down, his lips brushing against your ear as his hand kept moving between your legs. "You’ll address me by my proper title."

​"Captain," you whimpered, hips bucking helplessly into him. "Captain, please."

He let out a satisfied him as he shifted, sliding down the mattress until he was sat between your legs.

“Now, be a good girl for your captain,” he murmured, his hands gripping your inner thighs to push them wide, “and spread those pretty legs of yours for me.”

Off Campus Masterlist

a sense of warmth, pride bloomed in his chest every time you placed yourself in his embrace. sitting on his lap, taking his arms to wrap them around your waist or guide his hand to slide in the back pocket of your pants while you pressed into him at any given moment. sitting in craig's bar, on a stool with pope standing beside you when a girl walks by making eyes at him, he couldn't describe the exact reason why he felt the carnal need to pound you into the next day when you tugged him by the belt loops of his jeans until he stood between your legs. or even why he felt himself stiffening his jeans when you slid your hand on his hip beneath his shirt, nails grazing his abdomen and v-line, tugging him down by his hair with your freehand to kiss him heatedly. slipping your tongue in his mouth, kissing like two teenagers who've had their first taste of each others flesh, all the while you're staring the poor girl down who thought she could ever stand a chance against coming between you and him. he felt a small inkling to maybe say something when he watched you stick your foot out and smirk watching the girl tumble. the poor girl who was pancaked on the floor had brushed up against him in her drunken stupor while making her way around the pool. but he couldn't, not when you looked at him so sickeningly sweet.

he definitely should've checked you on the bratty possessive behavior when he brought you back home for the typical cody family dinner. baz had brought cath so it was only right that he brought you along. over the years, cath's resentment towards baz for the life he had brought her into had grew tenfold when she watched you take the life she could've had with pope. of course, she never loved pope the way that you did, the way he deserved. it didn't stop her from feeling like maybe there was a chance to get that back. it was only a moment, to anyone else it was fleeting but to you, to you it was like time had frozen and you were seeing red. pope was on his usual cleaning frenzy after dinner and cath came into "help". the context of situation was irrelevant, all you could focus on was the way she was looking at him, hand on his arm and eyes desperately searching for any indication that maybe he'd want her still. their backs were to you when you slammed the wine glass onto the floor, shattering it to millions of glittering pieces. pope's body jumps a bit at the sheer surprise before he's immediately rushing over to check on you, tears welling in your eyes as you mumble 'm'so sorry'. cath's hand drops to her side as she watches the way coddled you, checking for cuts and making sure your okay. he had dropped his attention from her so quickly their should've been no doubt in her mind that the version of pope that loved her wasn't there anymore. she should've really known when she saw the cold stare in your eyes when just for a beat, you pulled back the sniffling so she could really see who pope belonged to.

even more so, cath should've know when she passed by pope's bedroom where the door was cracked ever so slightly. in his haste to taking you back to his bedroom, you seemingly forgot to close his bedroom door all the way. pinning your body beneath his as his pants pooled around his ankles, your bottoms discarded somewhere in the room in the room as he fucks you. your nails are clawing at his back, crying his name with every slap of his hips against yours, cunt drawing him in deeper with squeeze and desperate plea that slipped past your lips. your eyes drifted to that crack, seeing her standing there. tears slipped out of yours.

"you love me andy? do-do you love me?" the question is for him but you're looking dead at her.

"love you so fucking much, angel," he grunts into your neck, punctuating every word with a wet kiss to your neck. his thrusts unrelenting.

"only me andy? you only love me right?" it's desperate, needy. he was right in the palm of your hand but the fear and doubt lingered in the back of your mind. you haven't torn your gaze away, the pleasure so intoxicating it's playing games with your vision. if she was really standing there watching you both like this.

She’s not happy about it. Something you like about being friends with Hannah Wells is that she wears almost every emotion on her face. Once you deciphered her expressions, it was easy enough to figure out from there what she’s feeling. It makes everything much simpler. You wish everyone were as easy to read as Hannah.

She lets you go with one last affectionate goodbye. You start walking, not sure where you’re supposed to go to find the shuttle from the stadium. Part of you doesn’t really care as much about that. Mostly, you want to get away from the noise. Tonight was just a cacophony of buzzers and slammed pucks and chants and shouts. Players getting shoved against the glass was the worst. You jumped every time.

You pull out your phone. It feels like you’ve gone in a circle. The stadium is a maze.

“Hi.”

You look up. John Logan—everyone calls him Logan, which throws you off—is about ten feet away, and he’s coming closer. He’s still in uniform, even his skates. You’re always impressed when you see players walk on skates. His hair is damp with sweat and at its curliest. Usually, it’s in fluffy waves.  

“Hey, are you coming to the party?” he asks, coming to a stop in front of you.

“I wasn’t invited,” you say.

He tilts his head, eyebrows scrunching. You focus, trying to figure his face out. A look like that usually means you’ve said something that doesn’t make sense, but you can’t imagine what that would be. You don’t even talk much with Logan, so how can he already be confused by you?

“You’re friends with Hannah, right?” he asks. “And Hannah’s bringing her friend Allie?”

You nod. “Yes, they were invited.”

“It’s a campus-wide invite,” Logan says. “No one got invited specifically—Dean and Beau posted the details expecting the entire student body to show up.”

“Oh. That’s confusing.”

He shrugs. “It’s usually the same group of people who go to the parties, so I guess people don’t think about it. But uh, you know, if Hannah and Allie are going, it’s safe to say that you can go too.”

People don’t think about a lot of things. They tell you even less, which makes you feel stupid and lonely sometimes. But you don’t say any of this, because your mother would say those are inside thoughts. Instead, you shove your hand in your pocket and play with a silica gel packet that came in your new camera box.

You like to roll the beads inside the packet, and you’ve discovered that if someone asks what you’re fiddling with, it’s acceptable if you show them the silica gel. You used to fiddle with a ball of plastic wrap, but that made too much noise in class.

“Okay, well, congratulations on your game,” you say when Logan says nothing else. “Bye.” You turn to leave the stadium.

“Wait!” Logan jogs around to face you again. “Uh, wait. Did Hannah not invite you?”

“She asked me to go, but I declined because I have a paper due next week, and because I wasn’t invited. It’s rude to go to parties you aren’t invited to.”

That’s a rule that took a few times to learn in middle school, but you’re very proud that you know it now. Except apparently it doesn’t apply in college. Rules are always changing, and sometimes it makes you so frustrated, you could spit.

“Well, what if I asked you to go? Invited you officially. I live with Dean, and I helped set up the party. Is that enough of an authority?”

“I don’t really know what constitutes an authority to invite people to parties,” you say. “Why do you want me to go?”

“Uh, well…” Logan steps forward, bowing his head a little. One thick curl falls into his eyes. He has such beautiful hair. You wonder what conditioner he uses. A few times you’ve sat next to him in class, and he smells like apples. “I feel like we’re kinda friends now.”

“We are?”

He winces. “I mean, kinda? Is that okay for me to say? We’re in class together, and you stop by with Hannah.”

“I stopped by once because she left her bag. I didn’t come inside.”

“True, fair enough. You can come in though, you know? Like that’s totally okay. Just for the future.”

You doubt you’ll stop by the Hawks House again. You have no reason to. But you nod anyway.

“Plus we compared notes that one time,” Logan says, snapping his fingers. “That’s a friend thing to do, right?”

You let his words wash over you. John Logan says you’re kinda friends. You like Logan. He’s nice to you, and to Hannah. You haven’t spoken much, but he lent you a pencil a few weeks ago in your developmental psychology class. And he always waits and holds the door for you, even if you’re a few people behind him. He doesn’t scare you like athletes often do. He isn’t loud, and he doesn’t say rude things about women, or make fun of how clumsy you are. When you tripped on a step in class, he didn’t snicker like other students—he reached out to catch you, and asked if you were okay.

Then again, you’ve hardly hung out together. There’s always time for him to change his mind, show a different side. Plenty of people have done that.

But you like making friends. You’re not good at it. You want to be. 

“Okay,” you say. “We can be friends.”

Logan grins. “Awesome.”

“You have nice teeth.”

He grins wider. “Thanks. I think that’s the first time anyone’s complimented my teeth.”

“That surprises me,” you say. “I don’t have a costume. Can I still enter the party, or will I be banned for life?”

Logan laughs. You squint. What’s funny?

“Normally, you’d get banned, but as an official party planner, I can get an exception made.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh…”

“I’m kidding,” he says gently, nudging your shoulder. It’s a soft nudge because of his padding. “You don’t need to wear a costume, but if you want, I have an extra pair of wings. You can be a bird with me. Tuck’s a bee.”

You’ve never been a part of a group costume. “I thought it was supposed to be costumes for two people.”

“We make our own rules. I’ll drive you there, okay? I don’t think you’ll wanna be on the party bus. It gets loud.”

You’re relieved. “Yes. Thank you.”

“No sweat. I’ll be out in a sec.”

You watch him disappear into the men’s locker room. You sit on a nearby bench. People are still filing out of the stadium. You put your headphones on, lean your head against the wall, and close your eyes. 

Seven minutes later, a hand on your elbow makes you jump, eyes flying open. You tear off your headphones.

“Sorry,” is the first thing Logan says. He’s in a gray sleeveless shirt and dark jeans. Water drips from his hair onto his shoulders. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay.” 

People don’t really touch you, mostly because you don’t care for it. Hannah and Allie like hugs, and sometimes you give them one, especially if they’re sad, because that’s what you do for sad friends. But mostly, you avoid it. People hug too hard, or too long, or they’re sweaty or smell funny. Logan doesn’t smell bad—he smells like orange Dial soap and his apple shampoo or conditioner, and you realize he must’ve showered. 

“Tuck is waiting for us in the car,” he says. “The wings are in the trunk.”

You follow him outside, into the mild night. His curls are even curlier when wet. You want to reach out and tug one, watch it spring back into place, but that’s definitely not an appropriate thing to do. You shove your hands in your pocket and squeeze the silica.

“What were you listening to?” he asks.

“Brown noise.”

“Is that a band or a song or…”

“No, it’s like white noise, but softer.”

He nods slowly, eyebrows knitting. “Oh. Huh.”

“There’s also pink noise and black noise, which I listen to at night to sleep. White noise feels like needles in my ears.”

“So you don’t listen to music?”

“I love music,” you say. “But sometimes it’s too much. The arena was loud, and sometimes I need something quiet to reset my brain, you know?”

“I definitely get that. I’m gonna check those out.”

“Will you really?”

Logan looks surprised. “Yeah, I will.”

You meditate on that, trying to figure out how that makes you feel, Logan meaning what he says.

Tucker greets you happily, and says that more’s the merrier when you tell him about Logan’s idea to join their costume. He has a girl named Kayla with him, and they sit in the backseat on the ride over, kissing and giggling. So you sit in the front with Logan, who keeps the radio turned low.

“If you wanna wear your headphones, I don’t mind,” he says.

You don’t, but the offer makes you beam at him.

Before you go inside, Logan gives you a pair of glossy black bird wings to wear. He steps back, smoothing the feathers, and looks at you.

“You look good. Those really suit you,” he says, and you wonder if he means that too. You’re not brave enough to ask.

The party is already in full swing by the time you arrive, which astounds you, considering the game officially ended less than an hour ago. Dean and Beau are at the center of the party, doing shots. Everyone cheers when they finish. Tucker and Kayla go to greet Dean, but Logan hangs back with you. He leans in to talk in your ear.

“Do you want a drink?” he asks.

You shake your head. “I don’t like drinking.”

“That’s cool. I’m gonna get a beer. Do you want to come with me?”

You eye the swell of people in the kitchen and grimace. “No, that’s okay. I’ll be here.”

He smiles, dark eyes warm. Your stomach flips. “Okay. Be right back.”

As he goes, you scour the room for food. If you’d known you were going to the party, you would’ve eaten before the game. But you find an untouched plate of pizza rolls, which is probably the most exciting thing that’s happened tonight, besides Logan telling you that you’re friends.

You put three on a napkin and stand to the side, watching people dance. Allie’s in a beautiful green dress, and you see Dean dance with her. Jealousy strikes you—not because you want Dean, but because you wish you were adept at all of this. Dancing, talking, making friends. Making a boyfriend. Going to college. Living. Hannah understands your struggle a little, but even you can see how well she and Garrett are hitting it off, fake relationship or not.

You finish your pizza rolls and fold the napkin, bouncing your head in time to the music. You don’t like parties, but this isn’t so bad, you suppose. It’s certainly reasonable enough to withstand in the name of friendship, and that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?

“Can I refresh that for you?”

You squint at your now empty napkin, where your pizza roll crumbs now lie. Then you look at the guy who asked. He might be a hockey player, you’re not sure. You pretty much only know Logan and Garrett, because Hannah’s your friend. You know Tucker, you suppose, since you’ve now ridden in a car with him. You know of Dean, because it’s impossible to go to Briar U without learning Dean Di Laurentis’ name and seeing his bleach blond head of hair on campus. But you couldn’t pick any other player out of a lineup. 

“It's a napkin,” you say. “It had food, not a drink.”

He holds up his hands and laughs. “Yeah, duh. It was an opener. I wasn’t being literal.”

Opener to what? You don't ask. He keeps talking, evidently not needing you to participate in the conversation.

“I’m Ben Pembroke. I just tried out for the team, but I’m pretty much a shoo-in. My dad played for Briar. Do you come to a lot of games?”

“No,” you say. “I came to this one because Logan asked me to.”

Ben frowns. “Are you together?”

“He drove me here in his car.”

He rolls his eyes. “I mean, are you dating?”

“No,” you say. “I'm not dating anybody.”

His smile returns. It looks wrong on his face. He has nice teeth too, but they don’t look as nice as Logan’s. “Good.”

“Why is that good?”

“Because.” Ben suddenly creeps a hand up your back. “It means you're available tonight. You're cute.”

You push his hand off. “Don't touch me. I don't like strangers touching me.”

Ben scoffs. “C'mon, enough with the ‘hard to get' act. I get it, you're ‘not like them.’ You're a nice girl. Whatever.”

“I don't know what you're talking about, but whatever it is, I want no part of it. Leave me alone.”

Ben gets closer to you. You flinch. He's tall and he's angry. You think so, anyway. 

“The fuck? You were sending me signals. You want me.”

Definitely angry. You ball up your empty napkin in your fist. You hate arguing. You usually have to get loud to make people take you seriously, and shouting gives you a headache.

“I was not sending you signals,” you say, voice rising. “I don't want anything to do with you. You came over here.”

Ben smiles again, full of ice. “Look, babe, it's cool, okay? None of your nerdy little friends will know we were together.”

“Together for what? Sex?”

Ben winks. You make a noise of irritation. 

“I did not send you sex signals, you creep. I don't like you! Go away!”

Ben reaches for you again. You yell, throwing your napkin on the ground. 

“Get away from me!” People start to look at you. You scream without words, so angry you feel like you might die. “Go away, go away!”

“Fuckin’ weirdo,” Ben snaps, but you ignore him. You don’t care what he calls you as long as he leaves.

“Hey.”

Logan’s wings are suddenly in front of you. He glances at you. 

“You okay?” he asks, holding out his hand behind him. He doesn’t touch you—you think his hand might be an offer, if you need it.

You chew the inside of your cheek. You don't feel okay, but you don't know if this is one of those times when you should lie. Sometimes lying makes things easier, but you never know when that is. 

Logan turns back to Ben after you take his hand. “What the fuck, Pembroke? You're harassing women?”

“Man, she wanted me, I swear—”

“I did not send you sex signals,” you shout. “I don't like you!”

Ben's face spasms. Logan puts a hand on Ben's chest. 

“Take it somewhere else. She's not interested.”

Ben flings a finger at you. “But she—”

“Get. The fuck. Out.” Logan's hand curls in Ben's shirt. A warning. Jules said that in one of their videos about Briar’s games. When John Logan touches people and gets in their faces, he “means business.”

Ben scowls at you. Logan steps back so he can block you from Ben's face. 

“Fine. Fucking whatever.”

He stomps away. You squeeze the silica gel so hard, the beads dig into your palm. You fear the packet might burst. Your brain aches with the fight and the anger and anxiety that accompanied it. You promised yourself you wouldn't make a scene like you always do. It's why you can't keep friends, and you brace yourself for Logan to tell you something similar. 

He leans in so you can hear him over the music. “Let's go outside. It's too loud here.”

Relief softens your body, even if Logan’s only taking you somewhere quieter so he can tell you off. “Okay.”

You pick up your napkin and throw it away. Then you follow him to the backyard. It's big too, and you're glad everything is well-lit and marked. It'd be too easy to get lost in this house. Logan takes you to two chairs on the deck where there's less people. Most of the guests are inside since Beau didn't fill the pool.

You sit. People hate it more when you defend yourself, but Logan has to know that you really did try not to make a scene. You care about things that your friends like, and you want to keep Logan as a friend. You like him, especially after tonight. 

“I tried to tell him I wasn't interested in my quiet voice,” you say. “So many times. I didn't want sex. I swear I didn't send him signals, Logan, I didn't even approach him firs—”

“Whoa, hey.” He pushes his hair back, leaning in. “Hey, hey. I know you don't like Pembroke, and you don't have to try to convince me that he started it. He was a total jerk.”

You’re miserable. “People don't like when I use my loud voice, but sometimes they just won't listen to me. I had to.”

“Is it okay if I take your hand?” Logan asks softly. 

You nod. Logan takes your hand in both of his, resting them on his knee. He’s quiet for a moment. 

“You didn't do anything wrong,” he finally says. “When someone is harassing you, you have the right to be as loud as you want. It fucking sucks, and I’m sorry he did that. I’m gonna tell the guys and make sure he doesn’t make the team next year. He’s a shit player anyway.”

You fiddle with the silica gel again. “I wanted to be good at the party. You like parties, and a video I watched about making friends in college said that I should do things that other people like to become their friend.”

“Oh,” he says gently, rubbing your knuckles. “We’re already friends. You don't have to go to any parties to be my friend. Parties are fine, yeah, but they aren't the only thing I like. I'm not Dean.” He rolls his eyes and laughs. 

You smile, pleased to catch onto his joke. “He was dancing with Allie.”

“Yeah, I think we may have witnessed a historical event: Dean Di Laurentis not getting what he wants.”

“Because she didn't kiss him?”

Logan snorts. “Exactly. Look, do you wanna ditch this party and do something else? There's a guest house on the property if you just wanna chill. I would drive you home, but I’m still a little tipsy.”

He's still holding your hand. You like it. You like how rough his palms are, his cool skin against your warmth. You link your fingers with Logan's. He looks down, then looks back up at you.

“I'm hungry, actually,” you say. 

He hums. “Good.”

“How is that good?”

“No, I mean, it's good you're being honest with me and telling me what you want. Don't force yourself to go to any more parties, okay?”

“Okay, Logan. Is there a Taco Bell nearby?”

****

“You’re a genius,” Logan says, his mouth full of Crunchwrap. He chews, then swallows before speaking again. “Taco Bell should be a post-game tradition. Garrett’s a health nut, but I think I could convince him.”

The Taco Bell is only a few blocks away from the house, so you and Logan walked here. He paid for your food even though you have money. He said it was to make up for the shitty party. You told him he didn’t need to do that. He said he wanted to.

“It’s my favorite fast food,” you say, working on your potatoes. You stick a fork into one, then carefully dip one corner in sour cream and the other in the nacho cheese.

“I thought they put the sauces on top,” he says.

“Normally they do, but I ask for them on the side because otherwise all the potatoes don’t get an equal distribution of sauce.”

It’s quiet, and you find Logan staring at you as you chew. You swallow, frowning.

“What?”

He shakes his head, grinning. He does that a lot. “Nothing, just… you’re different.”

“Oh.” You pull your food closer to you, shoulders curling in.

“Not in a bad way! I like it. You know what you want.”

“Not really.” You suddenly remember Allie and Dean dancing. “Or if I do, I don’t know how to get it.”

“I think that’s pretty common,” Logan says, resting his chin in his hand. “I’ve been in that situation plenty of times.”

“What did you do?”

“Hmm.” He takes a long sip from his coke. “Depends on what I wanted. For the most part, I just went for it. No one else is gonna give it to you, you know?”

“I guess so.”

“What do you want?”

It strikes you now that Logan’s eyes are not just brown; they’re speckled gold, like spattered sunlight on tree bark. They’re lovely even in the harsh fluorescent light. He’s like some kind of fantasy novel angel with the wings and his swoopy curls. His lashes are long and thick. He licks his lips, and now you can’t stop staring at his mouth. Your heart starts to pound, the longer he looks at you.

Oh no, you think. Oh no. I don’t want to be his friend. 

Yet another thing you’ve misunderstood. 

“I don’t know,” you say hoarsely. You clear your throat. “I really don’t know.”

“Well,” Logan says. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. And whatever it is, it’ll be there for you.”

You can hardly speak. You twirl the silica gel between your fingers. You do that the whole car ride home. Logan leaves the radio on low again. He gets out and opens your door after he pulls up to your dorm. Again, he offers his hand, and again, you take it.

“You look really pretty in those wings,” he says, like he’s telling you a secret, even though he already told you that earlier. He must really mean it. 

It’s just you two here; campus is pretty much dead because almost everyone else is at the party.

“So do you.”

He laughs, and you think you’d really like it if he gave you a hug right now. But you’re not a hugger. You don’t know how to ask for such a thing from John Logan.

“You played really well,” you say.

Logan hums. “Thanks. I’m really glad you came.”

He’s still holding your hand. He squeezes it. 

“Well, um, bye,” you say, letting go.

“Goodnight,” he says after you.

A thunderous crash was felt on the ground, making the earth tremble beneath your feet.

“Great,” you muttered under your breath.

You weren’t foreign to these kinds of situations. Most travelers ended up on your landing strip at this time. Many of them were drunk or desperate. Some of them were harmless, but some others screamed danger.

You grabbed your blaster from beneath the counter before pulling your jacket tighter and stepping out into the cold rain. The wind whipped on your face as you pushed across the muddy path toward the edge of the clearing where a smoke curled black into the sky.

Beneath it, there was the ship, shattered.

Silver hull. It’s engine’s sputtering with one of its wings buried deep in soil.

It wasn’t local.

Your boots splashed on the puddles as you approached cautiously, blaster raised, ready to fight the passenger of the ship.

“Hey!” your shouting was barely heard in the middle of all the noise, “If you’re alive in there, say something!”

But you were met with eerie silence and the hiss of the damaged engines.

You muttered something under your breath and climbed right back onto the lowered side ramp, gripping the slick metal for balance.

The lights inside the ship were barely flickering in a red. There was not much to see besides the trace of the smoke rig in your face, but suddenly a shape on the ground caught your attention.

The man slumping against the far wall covered head to toe in battered beskar armor, one gloved hand pressed hard on the side of his leg where dark blood seeped through his fingers.

And curled tightly against his chest, there was a…

A child?

A small green bundled, with dark eyes blinking up at you while moving his oversized ears. The tiny creature let out a sharp, frightened sound you didn’t understand.

Immediately, the armored man moved swiftly. Blaster lifted shakily in your direction.

“You take one more step,” he rasped, voice distorted under the helmet, “and I’ll—”

But his voice broke apart into a violent cough.

Your expression switched, you felt worry for the man beneath the beskar. He didn’t seem like danger threatening to hurt you, but just a traveler passing by and falling right into the trap of this place and its weather.

The blaster wavered wrapped under his shaking hand and you could hear how uneasy his breathing was now.

And the child, pressed closer to his chest with a worried little coo. You tightened your grip around your weapon, but lowering so you could show the man before you he could trust you.  

“I’m not going to hurt either of you,” you promised, even if it looked like your words went away with the wind.

The armored man didn’t answer to your words. He was trying to stay conscious, to stay focus.

You could see it.

Every muscle in his body looked locked tight with effort, his own weakly strength keeping him upright.

“You’re bleeding out,” you alerted, walking cautiously towards where he was. “If I wanted you dead, I could just stand here and wait.”

A long silence followed after that, as the blaster gripped in hand dripped.

You stepped closer slowly not to startle him. The closer you got, the worse the damage looked. One section of beskar near his ribs had been cracked inward from what looked like a direct blast hit. The black fabric beneath the armor was ripped.

“How are you even—?” you muttered.

The visor tilted toward you. “Habit.”

You crouched before him, carefully a few feet away, close enough now to really see him. Mud streaked across the silver armor. Burn marks covered one shoulder plate. His cape looked half torn away as the rest of his clothing.

Whoever this man was, he had barely survived getting here.

The little creature watched you closely from his lap, ears twitching. And then, unexpectedly, it reached one tiny hand toward you.

The Mandalorian immediately tensed. “No.”

The word came out sharp despite the weak sound of his voice.

The green baby blinked at him, but then he made another small noise before reaching for you again.

You stared, reaching his tiny hand with your finger, “Well,” you said softly, looking at the man “that’s either a very good sign or a terrible one.”

The lingered on you for a moment longer and the you stood carefully, holding out your hand for him to take.

The Mandalorian looked at it like he didn’t understand what you were offering.

“You can either let me help you walk,” you said, “or I can watch you collapse trying to do it alone.”

There was silence once again, but a thunder cracked overhead making the Mandalorian to lift his gaze to the sound, then you, visible reluctance, finally reaching for your hand.

The second your fingers closed around his glove; his knees nearly gave out.

“Oh— hey.”

You caught him quickly, the full weight of beskar and exhausted muscle crashing against you hard enough to almost drag you down too.

A rough sound escaped from his lips.

“Easy,” you said instinctively.

The Mandalorian’s helmet dipped close to your shoulder as he fought to breathe through whatever agony he’d been ignoring for hours before even fall in here, but for the first time since you found him, he stopped trying to pull away from your help.

For one second, all you could feel was his heavy weight over your shoulders.

His heavy beskar armor, the rain-soaked fabric of his clothes and the weight of his body burning with fever beneath it all.

The Mandalorian braced one gloved hand over the wall of the ship, trying and failing to steady himself while you adjusted your grip around him.

“You’re—",” you muttered.

“Do you always talk this much?” he interrupted, as his helmet shifted towards your face.

You laughed softly, “Good to know you are still in the mood.”

A tiny huff came from the tiny child still walking beside you both. The Mandalorian looked down immediately, attentively.

The softness in that single movement caught you off guard.

“The kid is, okay?” he asked.

You blinked, the worry in that single question full of concern caught you off guard.

“Yes,” you answered quietly. “He’s okay.”

You noticed the tension leaving his shoulders just for a second.

“Come on,” you said gently, shifting his arm more securely over your shoulders. “I’m gonna patch you up.”

The short walk towards your home was difficult with the rain fiercely pouring over your heads. The mud sucked beneath your boots while the wind tore across the clearing.  The man leaning on you stumbled more than one, and with each step his grip tightened around your arms. He was trying very hard not to do it.

“You know,” you said as you kept dragging him forward, “travelers normally introduce themselves before—"

“Din.”

The distorted voice interrupting your words made you nearly miss a stop.  

“Well, Din,” you breathed, struggling with another gust of wind, “I’m gonna help you.”

You reached your door seconds later and slammed your palm against the control panel hard enough to hurt. The metal doors groaned open.

Warm light came right into Din’s sight making his legs gave up over your body and the beskar was really heavy on his own. Combined with a man who had finally stopped fighting his own consciousness, it felt nearly impossible to hold.

 By the time you managed to put him over the mattress in the corner of the room, your arms ached in exhaustion.

The child hovered anxiously over you touching your hands with his tiny ones as he watched every move you made over Din.

"It's okay," you murmured.

You knelt beside Din scanning all over his body in order to find wounds. Blood seeped through the torn fabric on his leg, staining little drops of red over the bed, and countless smaller cuts scattered over exposed patches of skin.

You reached for his pulse, touching the warm skin of his neck, so you pushed aside the soaked collar of his suit. A thin trail of dried blood disappeared beneath the edge of his helmet.

Your brow furrowed, leaning closer to study the wound over the exposed skin.

You reached for a clean cloth to clean the reddish wound, accidently brushing your finger over the edge of the helmet.

A memory came crashing right there. Half-forgotten stories traded between travelers at cantinas and repair docks.

Stories about Mandalorians. The warriors who never removed their helmets. Whose armo was their religion. Who would rather die than let someone see their faces?

You looked down at him sprawled almost unconscious shape on the mattress. Even now one  of his gloved hands remained curled weakly near the edge of the helmet, like some part of him was still trying to protect it.

Protect himself.

The child looked between you and Din before making a questioning little sound. “Patú!”

"I know," you whispered again. "I'm trying."

You didn't exactly have the time to respect every warrior tradition right now. If you didn't remove at least part of the armor, you wouldn't be able to treat his wounds properly.

But you hesitated because it felt too vulnerable.

It was wrong. Almost like touching gold with sinful fingers.

Your eyes drifted back to the unconscious Mandalorian and he looked exhausted more than dangerous.

Just a man who had dragged himself across a galaxy half-dead to keep a child safe.

You sighed softly. "Din," you said, nudging his shoulder carefully. "I need you awake for this."

But you were met with silence, again.

You tried again, firmer this time.

His head shifted slightly with a strained sound.

"Listen to me," you said gently. "You're hurt. I need to remove part of the armor."

At that, his hand wrapped weakly around your wrist. The visor turned toward you immediately.

"No."

You stilled. The word came out rough.

"It's just the chest plate," you said softly. "I'm not touching the helmet, I promise."

Din's grip tightened, the got loose again, like he was fighting himself.

"You don't understand."

"Then explain it to me."

Silence. His ragged breathing filled the room for a moment.

"The helmet stays on." He ordered. You held his gaze through the dark visor for a long moment.

"Okay." You whispered, nodding your head.

There was relief in his posture and that tiny trust he had allow himself to have towards you, felt heavier than the beskar itself.

A few hours later, the storm hadn’t showed signs of leaving. The rain remained pouring fiercly over your roof while the traces of the fading daylight had been consumed to darkness, leaving the warm glow of the lamps inside your house.

Din was still sleeping peacefully, that’s what you thought.

After removing the chest plate and most of the damaged armor, you cleaned the wounds on his skin. The cut along his neck had been disinfected, you wrapped a bandage around his leg and had given him medicine that sent him to sleep right away.

Grogu—you had learnt that was his name— sat at your small kitchen table, wrapped in one of your blankets, his oversized ears poking out the fabric.

You couldn't help but smiling at him, at the bowl of vegetable soup in front of him. "You know," you said while stirring another pot on the stove, "I'm beginning to understand why he's so protective of you."

Grogu glanced up, his big eyes widened even more, then sipping his soup right out the bowl.

You laughed at that, “Exactly.”

The child made a pleased little noise. He looked relaxed and safe, and that alone told you everything you needed to know about Din.

Whatever else he was, whatever secrets hid beneath his beskar and creed and his silence, his first concern had never once been himself. It had always been the child.

A low groan coming from the room Din was laying at interrupted your thoughts.

Grogu's ears perked up and another sound followed the groan.

A strained exhale.

You set the spoon down ordering Grogu to stay where he was, but he jumped off the chair following you in.

Din’s head had turned toward the doorway with one arm bracing weakly beneath him as he attempted to sit up, but his body still irradiated pain.

His shoulders tensed and his breath itched as he swallowed the pain without uttering protest.

“Are you alright?” you asked, softly.

Din’s face turned toward you. Even without seeing his face, you could feel the irritation dancing inside his eyes.

"I need—" He begun.

"You need to lie down." You interrupted.

"I need my ship."

"You can go anywhere in the state you are.”

Silence.

"My ship..."

You stared at him. "Your ship is still outside."

Din seemed to relax slightly, nodding.

"Half buried in mud."

A soft chirp interrupted the conversation as Grogu climbed on the mattress and settled against Din's side. One of his gloved hands found the child.

Checking and protecting.

The gesture was so pure and innocent it made your chest ache and Din's shoulders loosened once he confirmed Grogu was unharmed.

Then did he look back toward you.

"Thank you." He whispered. His words were simple, but somehow so sincere.

The words were quiet.

You blinked, but smiled at him.

"You're welcome." You whispered, quietly.

The lamps flickered softly, casting light over your face. That’s what caught Din’s attention.

The warmth of your gaze, and the kindness that lingered in your expression.  

He had encountered thousands of faces throughout his life. Faces twisted by fear, greed, anger, ambition. Faces those hid intentions behind disguised smiles and empty words.

Yet yours seemed incapable of pretending. Everything you felt appeared there openly.

And now, as you smiled at him, gratitude. Something in Din's chest tightened.

A strange, unfamiliar ache. Not painful, but overwhelming.

He couldn’t stop himself studying your face with a kind of attention he couldn't remember giving anyone before.

The curve of your smile. The light reflected in your eyes and the way your expression softened whenever you looked at Grogu and him.

Beautiful wasn't the right word.

No, that wasn’t enough.

Because what left him speechless wasn't simply how you looked.

It was who you were.

Din swallowed quietly beneath the helmet. You couldn't see the look hidden behind the visor, but perhaps it was for the best because you might realize that he was staring at you thinking you were a growing rose in the dessert.

You were someone he was already beginning to dread leaving behind.

Another hour passed by. The next hour passed quietly.

The storm continued outside, but it had ease with the pass of time, but inside the house everything felt strangely peaceful.

Grogu had fallen asleep and you looked at him evey few minutes as you stirred the soup before pouring it in a bowl.

Just warm broth, vegetables, and whatever spices you had left in the cupboard.

You walked back to where Din slept, balancing the bowl carefully as you crossed the room and set it down on the small crate beside the mattress.

"There."

Din glanced at it. Then at you and then back at the soup.

You folded your arms. "Don't even think about it."

His helmet tilted "What?"

"You're not convincing me you're not hungry."

"I've gone longer days without food." He spoke.

"I'm sure you have, but not in here.” You reassured but not because you wanted to be just a good guest, but because caring made you feel human.

“Please, eat.” You said, smiling kindly at him.

Din looked at the bowl once again, and then he at you.

The visor remained fixed on your face waiting for something to happen.

"Oh." Your smile faded as the realization clicked in your head. Suddenly, you felt ridiculous for not thinking of it sooner.

The helmet. He couldn't exactly lift a spoon through beskar.

"I'll..." You cleared your throat awkwardly. "I'll give you some privacy."

The tension in his shoulders eased and you left him with the soup, as you stepped into the hallway and pulled the door mostly closed behind you.

Before giving another step, you leaned against the wall outside, trying very hard not to think about the man hidden beneath the helmet. Really trying not to be curious.

You lasted approximately thirty seconds because a movement caught your eye through the narrow gap in the doorway and before you could stop yourself, you glanced over.

Just for a flicker.

One of his hands reaching for the helmet.

Your breath caught and you looked away, but not before catching a brief glimpse of him.

The back of his head and the dark curls loosening in the curve of his neck and the tanned skin illuminated by the warm light of the room.

Nothing more. Nothing close to enough to a glimpse of his face.

Yet the sight of him hit you. It made him look real.

Not a Mandalorian, but a man beneath the helmet.

Your chest tightened, making you lift your hand right in there to ease the feeling.

But you stepped farther from the doorway, giving him the privacy, he deserved.

Din Djarin needed to heal and his ship needed repairs.

According to him, the ship required replacement parts in the enginee, but the weather conditions

You found him standing in the workshop on the second morning.

"Absolutely no!” you exclaimed as you saw him, making the Mandalorian froze.

"I was taking a walk"

"No, you weren’t"

"I was walking."

You pointed toward the mattress.

He stared at your lifted finger and eventually he returned to bed without another argument.

You considered that your greatest achievement since he arrived.

The child proved to considerably easier to handle for you.  Grogu followed you everywhere.

If you worked in the workshop, he sat nearby watching you work.

If you cooked, he appeared beside the counter demanding to be feed.

And if you disappeared for more than ten minutes, you could almost guarantee he would find you eventually.

Din pretended not to find any of this amusing, but the occasional tilt of his helmet suggested otherwise.

And as the days passed by, conversations became longer and easier.

You learned Din preferred silence to small talk. You learned that he woke before dawn every morning and that he checked on Grogu before checking on himself.

Every single time. Every single morning.

You learned that beneath all the armor and the rude behavior he carried on the beskar, there was a man incapable of ignoring someone who needed help.

An in natural return, Din had learned things about you too.

Small things. Small gestures.

He realized you hummed a melody while repairing the gear. That sometimes when you thought he was sleep you muted to yourself because you were exhausted.

He had also become addicted to the way you smile when you caught a glimpse of sunlight across the window before to be swallow the grey clouds. The way storms still made you pause sometimes when thunder shook the walls.

He found himself smiling as well beneath the helmet.

The first time you heard Din laughed, the sound made you stop. It happened right after Grogu stole food directly from your plate and looked at you while eating it.

It was a rough sound that lasted for barely a second, but you realized you would yourself chasing that sound for the rest of your life if you could.

Your routine also changed.

You started making enough food for feeding three without thinking about it.

And Din began waiting for you before eating, slightly lifting his helmet to sip the soup, but still it wasn’t enough to caught a glimpse of his face.

And Grogu stayed close to you all the time.

The house felt less empty with the both of them in here.

Lonely stopped consuming you.

And you weren’t fond of the silence anymore.

Not when you had grown used to Grogu's happy babbling or when you already had learned the sound of Din's footsteps moving through the house.

You found yourself listening for those sounds without even realizing it.

Waiting for them. Wanting them to appear before your eyes

And when the house fell quiet, you caught yourself searching for the source of the absence.

Searching for him.

Searching for Din.

And for him, it wasn’t different. He unconsciously turned toward your voice whenever you stepped in the room.

He felt calmer when you were around, and his chest got warmer whenever he said your name.

Those dangerous things will make your heart hurt. It made the inevitable goodbye felt harder to face.

And neither of you wanted to admit just how much it would hurt when the time finally came.

"Do you need something?" you asked as you stared at Din.

Din paused. “No.”

Yet he remained standing there anyway.

You arched an eyebrow. The gesture would have intimidated most people that know you, but it didn’t have effect on the Mandalorian, in fact, it weakened him.

"You know," you said, setting down your hydrospanner, "It’s rude to stare people without telling anything.”

"I'm not staring."

"You are."

He tilted his head without uttering a word.

A small laughed escaped your lips. The sound echoed arounf the workshop. Din felt something tighten inside his chest.

He liked hearing you laugh far more than he should, especially when he was the reason behind it.

"I think Grogu is a bad influence on you," you teased.

At the mention of the child, Din glanced down at Grogu sitting nearby with a collection of stolen screws and parts spread in front of him.

"He's learning from someone."

Your hand immediately went to your chest.

"Me?"

Another slight tilt of the helmet. "You steal ship parts."

"They belong to me."

"You steal them from scrap yards."

"I gave them a second life."

Din made a low sound beneath the helmet and your smile widened instantly.

And there it was again that feeling burning him in the middle of the chest. The one that had become increasingly difficult to ignore over the past few days.

Because every time you smiled at him, something inside his chest seemed to soften.

Every time he heard your voice, the tension he carried on his shoulders drifted away.

Every time he entered a room and found you there, some part of him settled.

As though the galaxy had become safer for him when you were around.

He didn't know when it had started, but your presence had become something he sought out rather than merely tolerated.

You focused your attention to the machine on the table. For a long moment, only the sounds of tools and distant birds filled the espace.

"Din?"

"Hm."

You didn't look up. "You're still standing there."

Heat crept up the back of his neck. Thankfully hidden beneath beskar you couldn’t see the reaction you had on him.

"I know."

Your lips twitched, and a smiled spread on your face.

But like all good things, life was fleeting. When you get used to something good, you don't notice the passage of time because your focus is on what's happening right in front of you.

To the shared meals that became familiar and to the mornings starting with the sight of each other.

The days passed quietly after that. To quietly and too quickly that Din recovered faster than either you anticipated.

His bruises faded and the stiffness in his movements vanished until one morning you realized he wasn't limping anymore.

You tried not to notice or tried not to think about what that meant. Because every healed wound brought him one step closer to leaving.

The ship became another reminder of his departure.

Din worked every afternoon beneath the now so sunny days, repairing damage left behind by the storm. Replacing the broken tools, reinforcing the wiring and testing the systems.

You often joined him because helping him had become your favorite part of the day. You handed him tools while pretending not to notice how the light gleamed on his polished beskar.

And Grogu seemed determined to make matters worse. The child divided his attention between both of you, often dragging one toward the other, that’s how one morning you found ended up pinned between a workbench and Din because Grogu had stolen a piece needed to repair the engine, forced both of you into pursuit.

The space suddenly felt much smaller. Din stood close enough for you to notice the subtle rise and fall of his breathing, even beneath the helmet.

Close enough to feel your pulse quicken. Neither of you moved immediately.

Neither of you spoke, but Grogu chirped proudly from the roof.

That broke the spell, making you both to step back, ignoring what had just happened.  

The following day, Din found you sitting alone on the porch. The sky above the valley burned gold and orange beneath the setting sun.

You hadn't noticed him approaching until he sat in the chair next to you.

For a while neither of you spoke. The silence felt familiar now.

"You know your ship is almost finished." You said, the mere thought broke your heart.

"I know." He said as his gaze remained fixed on the horizon.

Pain settled in your chest.

And after that, the Razor Crest sat in the clearing looking new again.

Ready and waiting to depart.

You stood in the doorway watching Din inspect the finished ship beneath the morning sunlight.

The sight should have brought relief, satisfaction even, but instead all it left was an unfamiliar ache beneath his ribs.

There was nothing keeping him here anymore.

Across the clearing, Din's gaze lingered on the ship, but he felt the ache to look up, finding you standing in the doorway.

Neither of you looked away.

But then Grogu waddled between you carrying a piece of metal far too big for him.

You laughed despite the sadness creeping in.

………………..

The rest of the day passed strangely. You both knew what his ship fixed meant.

The routine and the moments you had shared, suddenly felt fragile. And you started linger your gaze on him, on Grogu and on the small things that would become a memory at any moment.

"I'll miss him” you whispered to Din as he sat across you.

Silence followed after that; your heart started beating faster.

"I'll miss both of you." Your reassured, swallowing.

The room suddenly felt very still because Din didn’t answer and for a second you worried you had said too much.

"So will we." He replied making your breath itch.

A morning never had broken your heart the way this was doing it.

As you stood in the doorway of your homse with your arms wrapped around yourself as Din Djarin secured the last of his things aboard the Razor Crest.

Grogu sat in the cockpit, ears drooping strangely low. Like he knew what this meant.

Din climbed down from the ship one final time, boots crunching against wet gravel. For a moment neither of you spoke. His helmet tilted in that familiar way. Watching you. Memorizing you.

Your chest tightened painfully at the sight of him.

A fleeting stay shouldn’t have been enough to matter this much.

And yet you could still feel the weight of his body on you while you dragged him inside your house. You could still remember the heat of his skin beneath your hands while you cleaned him up. The first glimpse of him.

But now he was leaving.

Men like Din Djarin belonged to the stars.

Not here. Not with you.

“Take care of yourself,” you managed. The words sounded smaller than you wanted.

Din stood still, but suddenly; his gloved hand lifted toward his helmet.

Your breath caught.

For a second you thought maybe he was only adjusting it, but then the seals hissed softly in the silence wrapping you both.

And your heart nearly stopped. He removed the helmet carefully, almost reverently, like the act itself exposed the most fragile part of him.

You had imagined his face a hundred different ways over the last few days despite trying not to.

But one of them came close.

Dark curls flattened over his forehead. Tired brown eyes shadowed with exhaustion. A strong nose. Scruff scattered across his jaw.

But it was the expression that weakened you. He was just a man. A painfully tired, painfully lonely man looking at you with a kind soft eye.

Vulnerable and so devastatingly beautiful.

Your lips parted at the sight of him and Din swallowed under the weight of your stare, and suddenly he looked uncertain, almost nervous.

As if you seeing him mattered to him.

“This is the man you helped,” he said quietly.

Your eyes burned “You don’t have to prove anything to me,” you whispered.

His gaze softened in a way that felt dangerous to survive.

“I know.”

But he had wanted you to see him anyway. Then Din stepped closer.

Close enough for you to see every detail now, the faint scar on his nose, the exhaustion carved into his face, the hesitant hope he clearly wasn’t used to carrying.

“You know,” he said voice low, “by creed…”

He hesitated. The words clearly tasting wrong in his mouth. “You should die now that you’ve seen my face.”

Your face fell. Din noticed it and he hated himself for even saying it.

“But I would never hurt you.” The confession broke you with startling intimacy.

Your throat tightened. Din looked so exposed standing there without the helmet, more vulnerable than he had been in your bed. Like this was the real injury. Letting someone truly see him.

“You saved my life,” he continued, voice rougher now. “You protected the kid. Gave us shelter.” His eyes lifted back to yours. “I trust you now.”

The honesty in his face ruined you.

And you stepped closer before you could think better of it, you felt his breath.

“Good,” you whispered. “Because I’d never hurt you either.”

His expression shattered.

Your hand lifted slowly, giving him every chance to pull away, but he didn’t. Your fingers brushed carefully over his jaw, his warm skin beneath rough scruff, and Din actually closed his eyes for half a second.

He leaned on your touch with the quiet exhaustion of someone who had gone far too long without kindness embracing him.

His breathing trembled. You could feel it ghosting on your wrist.

Din’s hand twitched at his side like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t quite know if he was allowed to.

Your thumb brushed softly over the scruff along his cheek, and a faint crease appeared between his brows.

In pure, devastating relief.

As though he couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched him without wanting something in return.

His eyes stayed closed, but after a few seconds. He opened them again, and there was something unbearably soft inside them now. Raw. Honest. Almost frightened by how much of himself he had already placed in your hands.

“You make it difficult,” he admitted quietly.

“For you to leave?”

His gaze dropped briefly to your lips before returning to your eyes.

“For me to remember why I should.”

The galaxy felt very far away.

Din cleared his throat, closing his eyes again, “Goodbye,” he said.

One word.

Your throat tightened.

“Goodbye, Din.”

Not Mandalorian.

Not the stranger falling by your home.

Din.

He walked toward the ship with steady steps, but just before climbing aboard, he paused.

You held your breath. The distance between you suddenly seemed too big it hurt so much.

But Din crossed it in a handful of determined strides. You barely had time to process what was happening before he stopped directly in front of you again.

But then his hands rose, almost hesitantly, making your heart pound.

"Din..."

The sound of his name broke something inside him and he placed his forehead rested gently on yours.

For one flicker and perfect second, the entire galaxy disappeared.

His hands tightened on your cheeks.

His gaze dropped briefly to your lips before returning to your eyes. Giving you every chance to step away.

But you didn't. Neither did he.

Then he leaned in. And his lips, surprisingly soft for a man hidden behind beskar and battle scars, found yours.

The kiss was so gentle and hesitant. As if he was afraid of moving too quickly would shatter the dream. Yet there was nothing unaware about the way his hand tightened around yours, or the lovely breath that escaped him when you kissed him back.

For countless days, Din had occupied every corner of your life.

Now, standing before you without armor between your hearts, the distance that had once existed between you finally disappeared in just one searing kiss.

His lips lingered on yours for a moment before pulling away. His forehead still resting on yours, brown eyes soft beneath dark curls tousled by the wind.

"If you ever need me," he whispered, resting his forehead on yours for one more moment, "light the beacon."